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One Year In Gotland
Apr. 7th, 2012 10:08 pmWhen Carlotta had gone, life in Gotland had returned to normal.
Too normal, Adalgoth realised after some weeks. The King did not return. It was spring, and all were busy, so he was not missed as bitterly as he might have been in another time of the year. But when the flower-crown that little Hilde had made and worn for May-day and kept in a dish of water faithfully, wilted and died, she cried bitter tears, sobbing that she had wished to keep it to show the King, and now so many days were past and the King had not come to see her. The King never came any more anyway! Adalgoth comforted her, as Liuta was out to see the wise-woman, and that kept him from saddening too deeply himself: - Hilde needed him!
Adalgoth wondered if that which had happened in the forge when Teja last visited was keeping him away; but that might be assigning too much importance to a fleeting thing.
At the midsummer thing, Rauthgundis was awarded the crown of dance-queen, and danced with Markja all night, the same that had come to blows with William over her, at the last thing in spring. "The King will be proud of me when we tell him," she declared as they were going home, and Adalgoth tried to smile, and said nothing.
Then, there was haying and reaping and the gathering of fruit, and not far from the year-day of the battle of Mount Vesuvius, Liuta had a little son, and named him Sameth, for the King's apprentice. "If he ever comes back, he'll be amused that we named him that," she said; but Wachis shook his head. "You can't count on dead men coming to visit all the time," he said. "They don't normally, either. I guess they have other things to do, being dead and all."
When upon the day that marked the battle, fourteen years ago, many of those that head been there that day gathered by the kings' barrow-hill, as had become their custom, to remember their dead heroes, Adalgoth took aside those that had known of Teja's visits, Aligern and Haralda, Agilulf and Martialis Romanus, and told them he did not think that the King would be back, and that some dire catastrophe had struck his afterlife, and while those that had come to safety had returned long ago, it seemed the door was closed now, and that was it. "Dead men must stay dead, in the end," Aligern said. "If he can return, he will," Haralda said. The other two said nothing, but looked upon Adalgoth with great pity, and he felt bared before their eyes, and reddened, and once more found the blame within himself, and what he had done.
When the twins turned two, there was a small feast for all the children, but none mentioned the King any more. The twins were starting to speak, and their innocent mouths might give away the secret that was no longer useful as such, but so dear to all that remembered. Hilde came and hugged Adalgoth and tried not to cry.
For Yule, Adalgoth and Wachis took their families to Visby, where King Harald sat upon his throne, and there, Adalgoth sang songs with the children before the king that Teja had taught them, strange songs and tunes from the future. For a group of children to sing as if they were bards or skalds was of course unheard-of, but all that heard them said that they had been taught well, and their songs were lovely, and many wished to learn, to teach their own children in turn.
And then, winter set in in earnest, and Adalgoth gazed upon the untouched snow leading to the barrow-hill, and felt the leaden certainty that never again, a set of inexplicable footsteps in the snow would lead down from there.
Life went on without the dead, as it had always done, as it was proper and ordained when the gods had made the world.
He should be thankful, Adalgoth mused, that for a short time, the order of the world had been lifted, so Teja could slip through the cracks.-
Too normal, Adalgoth realised after some weeks. The King did not return. It was spring, and all were busy, so he was not missed as bitterly as he might have been in another time of the year. But when the flower-crown that little Hilde had made and worn for May-day and kept in a dish of water faithfully, wilted and died, she cried bitter tears, sobbing that she had wished to keep it to show the King, and now so many days were past and the King had not come to see her. The King never came any more anyway! Adalgoth comforted her, as Liuta was out to see the wise-woman, and that kept him from saddening too deeply himself: - Hilde needed him!
Adalgoth wondered if that which had happened in the forge when Teja last visited was keeping him away; but that might be assigning too much importance to a fleeting thing.
At the midsummer thing, Rauthgundis was awarded the crown of dance-queen, and danced with Markja all night, the same that had come to blows with William over her, at the last thing in spring. "The King will be proud of me when we tell him," she declared as they were going home, and Adalgoth tried to smile, and said nothing.
Then, there was haying and reaping and the gathering of fruit, and not far from the year-day of the battle of Mount Vesuvius, Liuta had a little son, and named him Sameth, for the King's apprentice. "If he ever comes back, he'll be amused that we named him that," she said; but Wachis shook his head. "You can't count on dead men coming to visit all the time," he said. "They don't normally, either. I guess they have other things to do, being dead and all."
When upon the day that marked the battle, fourteen years ago, many of those that head been there that day gathered by the kings' barrow-hill, as had become their custom, to remember their dead heroes, Adalgoth took aside those that had known of Teja's visits, Aligern and Haralda, Agilulf and Martialis Romanus, and told them he did not think that the King would be back, and that some dire catastrophe had struck his afterlife, and while those that had come to safety had returned long ago, it seemed the door was closed now, and that was it. "Dead men must stay dead, in the end," Aligern said. "If he can return, he will," Haralda said. The other two said nothing, but looked upon Adalgoth with great pity, and he felt bared before their eyes, and reddened, and once more found the blame within himself, and what he had done.
When the twins turned two, there was a small feast for all the children, but none mentioned the King any more. The twins were starting to speak, and their innocent mouths might give away the secret that was no longer useful as such, but so dear to all that remembered. Hilde came and hugged Adalgoth and tried not to cry.
For Yule, Adalgoth and Wachis took their families to Visby, where King Harald sat upon his throne, and there, Adalgoth sang songs with the children before the king that Teja had taught them, strange songs and tunes from the future. For a group of children to sing as if they were bards or skalds was of course unheard-of, but all that heard them said that they had been taught well, and their songs were lovely, and many wished to learn, to teach their own children in turn.
And then, winter set in in earnest, and Adalgoth gazed upon the untouched snow leading to the barrow-hill, and felt the leaden certainty that never again, a set of inexplicable footsteps in the snow would lead down from there.
Life went on without the dead, as it had always done, as it was proper and ordained when the gods had made the world.
He should be thankful, Adalgoth mused, that for a short time, the order of the world had been lifted, so Teja could slip through the cracks.-
